Appropriating the F1 logo from a 90s video game seemed way more interesting than farting around trying to assert my vision by making some lofty, new wave logo. It was also your typical brief hijack. The one thing they asked us not to do was turn it into a video game, so that’s the thing I did. My first thought is we should probably just turn it into Wipeout, and over the next couple of months of intensive design innovation, it’s the one idea that stuck. It was the only good idea we had, beyond some wavy lines and a big mad new trophy thing which I’ll show you all someday. And I had the idea quickly, and once you have the idea…
Ads are fucking dull. Branding is fucking dull. We don’t need any more logos, the more we make the more valueless they all become. What makes things interesting now is the people, the networks who made them and the conditions in which they were made. The stories told of their creation. Sure, go to one of those robotic branding companies, or ad agencies, but you’ll play in the same foetid water as everyone else.
Often the best way to make something interesting is to create a conspiracy out of it. Find a hole in the brief and exploit it. Sometimes you can. Usually you can’t. And if you can’t, don’t fight the shit ideas, embrace them. Take those shit ideas and make them. It’s far more honourable to destroy something good than give up when you realise you can’t make something great. Often making it worse, makes it great.
I suppose I didn’t take that approach because I find design, newspapers, adverts, book covers, album covers, clothes, logos all so disposable they refuse over-intellectualisation. They’re ephemera. Shash. Momentary distractions. Attributing any sort of value to them seems such a bougie, narcissistic idea. Taking the weight out of a project allows you to see it better. It changes the nature of the object. I suppose this approach also highlights my own esteem issues.